


Dreams and Disasters

by flamingburningfandomtrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Evil Chara (Undertale), Nightmares, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash
Summary: So, this one is sad.Like, no fluff, no relationships, just... sad.I was thinking about not putting this up, but then I thought like,"hey, sharing is caring".Anyway, Sans is having nightmares again...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Dreams and Disasters

**Author's Note:**

> IM SAD  
> SUE ME

Sans waits in the Judgement Hall, eyelights out. Waiting, once again, for the kid. Chara, or whatever their name was. This time wouldn’t be friendly, either. Not after they’d killed Papyrus… and everyone else.

Again.

He tightens his fist around the dusty red scarf, using it to wipe away the dried tear tracks on his cheekbones. No matter how many times they did it, he always hurt a little. It always made him cry to see his brother be decapitated, see his desperate skull just… lying in the snow.

His grin widens, twistedly. And now, it’s going to happen to him again. That familiar bloody slash across his chest, leaving him to kick the bucket in a gold hallway he’s never hated more in his life. And it will just REPEAT. He isn’t afraid of death. He’s afraid of the concept that this will never end. He’d much rather try changing the cycle than continue this path (which is what he thinks every timeline, in this hall)… but it’s too late now. 

There they are, covered in dust, smiling like a maniac.

Time to give ‘em a fight.

~~~~~  
This reset. It’s different, Chara notices, annoyed. Frisk is resisting in a way they never have before. Struggling desperately. Trying to rid their body of the demon that’s turning them into a puppet. A toy. Hopefully she can at least keep control through the fight against Sans. That was the only fight she really got a kick out of every time. He’s so desperate to see a change, but he never stood up to make one. It’s hilarious. 

Frisk gives another tug on their soul, trying to get it back. For a few seconds, they can see through the red cloud in their vision to see Sans’ face. He looks sad. If only they could fix it-

And just like that, it all goes red and numb again.

“Hey, comedian,” they hear their vocal cords being manipulated. “Ready to play again?”

“ready to die again?”

“Not as ready as I am to see your DUST.”

“skippin’ all the talk, then? don’t even wanna hear why it’s fair for me to fight’cha?”

“Heard it. Gimme your best shot.”

~~~~~  
As per usual, Frisk dies. Over, and over, and over again. Their body is littered with bruises and gashes, which bled into their hair and clothes. But they didn’t scream, didn’t wince, didn’t even hesitate. They just kept going. It’s inhuman, Sans thinks, which is ironic. Seeing as they’re the only human down here.

He’s so blinded by anger, and pain. He doesn’t even see the other battle they’re fighting.

After their fiftieth (or so) death, something starts to shift. The red, murderous glint in their eyes falters every few seconds. He watches them fumble with the knife, trip into attacks- he watches real fatigue and pain start to play with their body. He grins, sending another onslaught of Gaster Blasters.

GOOD.

The more they hurt, the better.

~~~~~

“Stop it!” Chara roars at Frisk, as they start to gain control of their body again. “Do you WANT to get killed?!”

“Better than him getting killed!”

“YOU WILL FEEL EVERYTHING!”

“I DESERVE IT!”

With a final tug and push, Frisk pushes Chara all the way out of them, and throws the knife away from them as forcefully as possible. Getting rid of her and her weapon at one time.

They can finally see everything. They can finally see the Judgement hall, the knife, the dust. They can see the borderline EVIL glare Sans is giving them, as he sweats. They can see Papyrus’ scarf hanging around his neck, covered in dust… They can feel so much… so much pain. All the burning cuts and pounding bruises. The headache. The sore muscles. The calluses from that stupid, stupid knife. 

And they realize they can speak now. Not that they’re too great at it.

“S-sans…”

He tenses, mistrustful. And then Frisk collapses.

~~~~~

This is new, he thinks, watching their aching chest rise and fall. All that blood getting all over the floor. 

This isn’t like them at all.

Not that he has much time to think on it, though. He sees the flash of a knife in the corner of his vision, dodging only in the nick of time. So the kid is playing at something, are they? He spins around to meet the attacker- but… there isn’t anyone there. The knife passes by again, though, just as forceful as before. 

“a floating knife, eh, kid? you’re a real bag’a tricks today, huh?”

The child on the ground doesn’t respond but for coughing up some blood. The knife swings by again, and this time he catches it by the handle. But when he feels for a soul to grab, by blue magic- nothing. What? 

Again. No response. Something without a soul is trying to kill him. Is the knife enchanted? 

This time, he sends a Gaster Blaster at it, to see if there will be some kind of sihouette around the thing. Like dumping paint on the invisible man. There’s a flashing outline of a near-copy of Frisk. He blinks, slightly surprised. Even after the blaster clicks off, the… (Demon? It sure as hell isn’t a ghost) thing is still red all over. He can see it clearly. It seems to be laughing at him, but entirely silently. It doesn’t make it any less frightening. 

He sends some attacks at it, but they do nothing. Nothing at all.

Why??

~~~~~  
Frisk staggers to their feet when Chara starts scream-laughing at Sans. He won’t be able to hear her. They have to explain what’s finally happened. 

“Sans,” they call, doubled over with pain. “Chara isn’t m-me… she, she’s been using me…”

“what?” he says, confused.

“She’s been using m-my body to hurt you! Just, stop trying t-to hurt her, it makes h-her stronger!”

He looks from them to the silently cackling girl, confused. This has to be a trick, right? The kid can’t seriously have been possessed, he can’t have been attacking some… some innocent little kid.

I mean, how twisted would that be?

They collapse again, choking with the stabbing pains they hadn’t felt previously. He crosses to their tiny figure, crouching beside them. He hadn’t even really noticed how small they were before. They could sit comfortably if he cupped his hands together. Like a kitten. 

This is definitely different. This is not the same as any other cycle. Maybe this will be what changes things, what gets him out. He decides that if this timeline is what breaks the cycle, he’ll go with it. Even if he fails, and dies… at least he’ll have seen something new. What to do with the kid, then? They talked about “Chara” like they were a different person, so… that means they’re someone else. He dubs them just “the kid”, for now. Mercy first. Mercy first. Fighting is never the best option- even when it’s necessary.

So he stoops and picks their broken body up in his hands, cradling them against his chest. Just like he used to do with Papyrus when he was little. Paps would cuddle up into the magical pocket of Sans’ belly and snooze for about twenty minutes before popping back up, refreshed and energetic. Sans gets the feeling the kid isn’t going to do anything like that. 

“uh… i really banged ya up, didn’t i?” he asks, quietly, observing the various burns and bruises. They hiccup and shake. 

It reminds him of some of the weirder timelines, that happened before Chara- or is it the kid- messed with it. The ones where Flowey liked possessing or manipulating people. Sans and Papyrus were some of his favorite targets, because they didn’t want to hurt one another. And when they did, it broke them. He winces, remembering his own deaths, remembering when he was forced to kill his brother. 

It reminds him that being a puppet HURTS you. It hurts everyone involved… except the puppeteer, of course. And Sans was just torturing them further. He tries to come up with some explanation for his actions, but it dies in his throat. 

‘i did this. i hurt you. you didn’t have a choice. you were being used, you didn’t know better, and you’re so damn small, and it’s my fault. i hurt you. i did this. you don’t deserve to be killed. you never did. you never deserved-‘

Their tiny hand reaches up and grabs one of his fingers like a lifeline.

“i- i’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “i mean, look at’cha. bruised left and right. heh…”

They tug on his hand until they can bury their head into it, still shaking. 

“i… i mean… heheh, ’s kinda hard to talk…”

And they look up at him with their eyes… their real ones. There isn’t any red or cloudiness. Only pools of dark brown, swimming with tears. It makes his soul nearly crack under its own weight. 

“hey… it’s gonna be ok. when you and me get outta this, i’ll take ya down to alphys or gerson, someone like that. they’ll fix ya up, good as new. dunkle sans’s gonna fix everything… just… hold on.”

He shrugs his hoodie off and wraps it around them. It’s already covered in their blood anyway, this won’t do any extra harm. The kid is nearly drowning in the fabric, but they look down and pull it more securely around themselves. Secure in the pouch, he throws one sleeve over his shoulder and the other around his waist, tying them behind his back. A backpack with a kid sitting in it.

“you good back there, kiddo? uh, tug on my shirt for yes.”

He feels a tug on the shoulder of his shirt, and nods.

“ok. how do i get rid of chara, then?”

“You can’t get RID of me!” she shrieks, though Sans can’t hear it. 

Frisk leans up, trying to speak for her, but doesn’t make it far before falling back into the hoodie again, coughing. Okay, then… but Sans still knows nothing about the entity he’s fighting. “Know thine enemy”, he knows that. But what do you do when you don’t?

The knife swings by again- whatever little grace period he’d gotten while handling the kid is over now, apparently- and he dodges. It’s… oddly, like any other fight with them. She uses the same tactics, which is nice. Same, predictable tactics. But he can’t fight back, or, if what the kid said is true, she’ll get stronger.

So he just dodges. 

It’s getting harder and harder to see her as the red from the Gaster Blaster wears off. He just goes by the knife for a point of reference- after all the fights he’s had with her, anyway, he can perfectly imagine where the rest of her is. Frisk peers around when they get the chance, trying to catch glimpses of Chara.

They’d never imagined Sans could- or would- defend something like this. SomeONE. But it’s starting to tire him out, Frisk can see that. He’s getting slower, however hard he tries to hide it. Maybe it’s their extra weight, or the fact that he has no time to get a break. But suddenly-

*BAM*

A hit. 

Chara landed a hit. 

Sans lands backwards, managing to keep a sitting position so he doesn’t hurt the kid. 

“heh… welp. guess that’s it, then,” he says, almost automatically. 

Frisk clambers weakly out of their pouch, falling to the floor, and then crawls up onto Sans’ lap. He sighs at how terrified they look. Their tiny hands hesitate in front of the huge bleeding gash in his chest, from shoulder to hip. 

“hey, kiddo, ’s just a lil’ scratch. nothin’ to worry about, don’t even-“ he grunts when he feels his spine start to dissolve into dust. “don’t even think about it, k?”

They stand, putting their hands up on the sides of his face, their eyes overflowing with tears. He feels his sockets get a little wet, as well. But that will be over soon- he won’t even have eyesockets to cry from, anyway. 

“heh. you’re not doin’ too hot, either, are ya?”

“N… no.”

“well, we can go out together. how’s that sound? i think paps’ll be happy to see ya.”

More tears- he can see their HP drop even more. 

“what’s your name, anyway?”

“Frisk,” they whisper, legs giving out. With a rapidly crumbling hand, he pulls them to his chest again and crosses his legs under them.

“i like it. nice name.”

And everything goes dark.

~~~~~

“He won’t wake up,” Papyrus says, wringing his hands nervously. “Human, what do we do?”

They shake their head, not knowing what he needs. But he’s panting like a dog, mumbling to nobody. Definitely a nightmare. (Another one.) But this time he won’t wake up, not for the world. 

“I think we just need to be here when he wakes up,” he suggests, sitting at the end of the bed. “So we can help calm him down. I’m guessing he won’t be in a very good state… I’m going to stay off work tomorrow if he isn’t fully okay.”

Frisk nods in agreement, clambering up on the bed and crawling over to Sans. 

Several quiet minutes go by, punctuated only by the older brother’s mumbling. And then, out of nowhere, his eyesockets shoot open. His hands reach up to feel his chest, as if to see if it’s all in one piece. It’s a bit of a shock, though, when Frisk crawls into his vision, unharmed and confused. 

Unharmed.

Alive.

Which means… he must be alive, too. Or, the both of them are dead. He reaches out tentatively, and they speed into his chest to give him a hug. 

“where are we?” he asks. “alive or dead?”

“Well, alive, of course.”

Sans jerks up when he hears Paps’ voice. Still holding on tightly to Frisk, he looks around for his brother. He’s just sitting on the end of the bed, in his pajamas. Like… normal. Like normal. 

“y-you’re…”

“I am fine, brother, you had a nightmare,” he says, pulling Sans into a hug. “I’m glad you are not distressed, like normal! You just seem confused, I think.”

“uh…” Yeah, he might say he’s just a TAD bit “distressed”, but that can wait, for now. “catch me up a little?”

“Your name is Sans. You’re alive. We’re on the surface. We are safe.”

Sans nods, still slightly uncertain.

“yeah…”

“And what do we say about nightmares?”

“they’re not real.”

“What is real?”

“r-right now is real.”

“Right. Am I missing anything, human?”

Sans looks down when they shake their head “no”, and hug him again. He hugs them back, chuckling a little. No matter how panicked he was- and still is- hugs always manage to help something in him. 

“‘m glad you guys are ok,” he mumbles, hugged from either side. 

“We are glad YOU are okay! We were quite worried about you!”

“heh. i bet.”

“You know, for someone who loves sleep so much, you’re never very good at it.”

Sans chuckles.

“c’mon, i can sleep with my eyes closed.”

Papyrus groans, and Frisk giggles- he ruffles their hair. 

“see, the kid thinks i’m funny.”

“WELL, I AM GOING TO BED! GOODNIGHT!!”

He storms out, then storms back in, gives Sans another hug, and storms out again. Frisk looks around, wondering if they’re supposed to leave, too.

“nah, kid, you can stay with me.”

They nuzzle up to him- he squirms, slightly uncomfortable with being in such a similar position with them as from his dream. But once they’re both settled in, he relaxes. 

“so… quick question.”

They glare up at him, as they had been trying to sleep.

“yeah, yeah, i know. just. the resets?”

The look softens to a look of guilt and concern.

“They aren’t going to happen again. Ever,” they whisper. 

“hey, ya don’t hafta talk if you’re gonna hurt yourself, ok?” he says, as they rub their throat with a frown. “and i know they aren’t happenin’ again, that’s not what i’m wondering. just- does the name ‘chara’ mean anythin’ to you?”

No response. Frisk seems to freeze solid. They lift their hands to sign-

(“First human to ever fall down. Toriel and Asgore-“)

“not what i meant, kid.”

They pull their hands down- he gives them a minute, letting them take a few deep breaths.

(“They helped me through the Underground. They helped me communicate with people. I’m the only one who could see or hear them.”)

“. . . ok. so, i’m just going to guess that she was pretty ok when mercy was in the picture. but what about when it wasn’t?”

They hesitate. 

(“You had a dream about it, didn’t you?”)

“you could say that.”

(“Then you probably remember better than I do. Everything kind of went dark for those times.”)

He nods, cringing slightly.

“‘m sorry if i hurt’cha, ok? i didn’t know.”

(“No-one did. And I kind of want to keep it that way.”)

“ok. that’s fair. you wanna catch some z’s?”

They nod, curling into the cocoon of warmth Sans provides, and fall asleep. He rubs their spine with a thumb, being as gentle as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt them, even by accident. And he comes up with a resolve: he’d protect them, just like he protects Paps. Always.

Their hand presses to his chest- the ring and middle fingers are pressed to the palm of their hand. Sign language for “I love you”. He chuckles slightly in the dark. Sweet kid. 

Sweet kid.

**Author's Note:**

> Go read something happy now~~~
> 
> **Also, hey, Develation, if you're still doing commissions, hit me up in the comments, I'm interested :)**


End file.
